Thunder Shots
by Eyrmia
Summary: "Stay with me?" "Of course." Ratchet/Arcee
1. Helping You

"Slagging storm," Ratchet muttered, pounding his fist onto the keyboard yet again. It was the third time the lights had flickered, and this time they had nearly gone out for good. Currently he was the only one awake – the others had retreated to their quarters hours ago. Suddenly, there was an enormous crash of thunder, and everything went pitch black.

Ratchet cursed and turned around, then activated his headlights. Slowly, the medic made his way to the hallway, then stumbled down the corridor until he came upon the backup generator. A sigh of relief left his lip plates when the dim lights came on with a hum and a click. He began to head back to the main room, but just as he was passing a door, he heard a shriek of fear.

Ratchet paused, optics flicking to the door. The moment had been too short to tell who it was, and he couldn't remember who slept in that room. After a moment's hesitation, he walked up to the lock and used his medical override to open it, then walked in.

Arcee sat on her berth, knees tucked to her chest and helm bowed. Her optics were squeezed shut, and fluids ran down her faceplate. Another clap of thunder shook the base, and she jumped, then began to tremble. Slowly, Ratchet approached the femme. Her EM field extended, entwining with his. This came as a shock to the medic, as she usually kept her aura tucked close to her frame. He sat down beside her, extending his own field in an attempt to comfort her.

"Thank you," she whispered, leaning into his chassis. He nodded mutely, putting one servo around her waist and using the other grab hers.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked quietly, rubbing his thumb digit on her palm.

"I…It reminds me of…you know," she murmured. "The war…Cybertron." Ratchet nodded in agreement. "The thunder sounds like…And it makes me think of…" She trailed off and shook her helm, optics beginning to overflow again. "Thank you. I mean it."

"Happy to help," Ratchet answered, drawing her closer. She rested her helm beneath his chin and entwined the digits of her right servo with his own, then used her other to hold the servo he'd put around her waist.

"Stay with me?"

"Of course," he reassured her.

"Don't leave – not even when I'm asleep."

"I promise."

She sighed and closed her optics, content. Ratchet slowly leaned back until he was laying down, then rolled onto his side and drew her into his servos. He rested his chin on the top of her helm, relishing in the moment as he fell into recharge.


	2. Brave the Storm

**AN: Greendogg gave me this idea. c:**

* * *

"Ratchet?"

The mech's audials twitched in recognition of his designation, but he was far too engaged in his work to break from it.

"Ratchet," the voice said again. This time it was a statement, not an inquiry. Just as whoever it was began to cycle up their voicebox again, Ratchet turned around, stomping his pede down in exasperation.

" _What_?"

Arcee raised an optic ridge at him, a flat look on her faceplate. Ratchet immediately realized his mistake and tried to atone for it.

"I…I'm sorry. I thought that–"

"You thought I was someone else? Me with my high-pitched feminine voice. Yes, I'm _sure_ this is what Optimus sounds like," she said dryly, lowering her voice at the end. Ratchet snorted.

"I wasn't paying attention," he muttered, turning back around.

"I need to talk to you," she said, this time tentatively. Ratchet nodded and began crudely organizing his tools, then faced Arcee once more and approached her.

"You know I'm always here if you need me."

"I–" She was cut off by a clap of thunder. The lights flickered, causing the femme to flinch. "I want to stop getting…scared, by these," she muttered when it was quiet once more. Ratchet reached forward and gently grabbed her servo.

"I think I can help with that. Give me–" he paused and internally checked the weather report, "–thirty minutes. Can you do that?" Arcee nodded. He pulled away and returned to his workspace, while she walked over to a crate and sat down.

The time seemed to fly. Unlike during the last storm, the lights remained on (apart from a few splitsecond outages). Finally, Ratchet turned off the computer and gestured for Arcee to follow him. They transformed and drove out of the base, into the rain. It was nearly dawn, so the sky was beginning to lighten up, despite the gray clouds that still hung above. By now, the lightning and thunder had passed, but rain still pounded onto their windshields.

When they reached Cliffjumper's grave, Ratchet transformed, Arcee quickly following suit.

"Why are we here?" the femme asked, looking around. Ratchet beckoned to her, walking up to the edge of the cliff and looking over the valley.

"I thought that perhaps if you faced your fear head on, you wouldn't be so frightened," he explained, pointing to a spot far in the distance. The darker clouds had moved their, flashing occasionally with lightning. From their current spot, the Autobots could even hear the distant rumbles of thunder.

"You don't have to actually go over there," the medic added, seeing Arcee's expression. "Just look at it. Know that it is not made of guns, blades, explosions, or anything war-related. It's simply nature."

Arcee took a shuddering intake, her wide optics watching the storm. Ratchet carefully slid his servo around her waist and squeezed it comfortingly, causing her to relax.

"I…I think I understand," she whispered, leaning in to him. He smiled and pulled her closer.

"It's kind of beautiful, don't you think?" he asked. "Controlled chaos." She nodded, a grin beginning to form on her faceplate. Ratchet stepped back and wrapped his servos around the femme from behind, then leaned down and nuzzled her cheek plate. Arcee was quick to reciprocate.

"We should get back to base before the others wake up," she murmured. "I don't want them to worry." Ratchet nodded, but didn't pull away for another few minutes. When he finally did, they both transformed down and drove back to Omega-1.


End file.
